rom stores and shops. There was this to be said for
Noreen--that she kept her home spotlessly clean, even with two
indifferent servants. She had a gift for housewifery, which, at its
best, was as good as anything in the world, and far better than could be
found in most parts of Ireland.

Of visitors they had few, if any, and the young wife was left alone to
brood upon her wrongs. Erris Boyne had slapped her face on the morning
of the day when he met Dyck Calhoun in the hour of his bad luck. He did
not see the look in her face as he left the house.

Ruthless as he was, he realized the time had come when by bold effort he
might get young Calhoun wholly into his power. He began by getting Dyck
into the street. Then he took him by an indirect route to what was,
reputedly, a tavern of consequence. There choice spirits met on
occasion, and dark souls, like Boyne, planned adventures. Outwardly it
was a tavern of the old class, superficially sedate, and called the Harp
and Crown. None save a very few conspirators knew how great a part
it played in the plan to break the government of Ireland and to ruin
England's position in the land.

The entrance was by two doors--one the ordinary public entrance, the
other at the side of the house, which was on a corner. This could be
opened by a skeleton key owned by Erris Boyne.

He and Dyck entered, however, by the general entrance, because Boyne had
forgotten his key. They passed through the bar-parlour, nodding to one
or two habitues, and presently were bestowed in a room, not large, but
well furnished. It was quiet and alluring on this day when the world
seemed disconcerting. So pleasantly did the place affect Dyck's spirits
that, as he sat down in the room which had often housed worse men than
himself, he gave a sigh of relief.

They played cards, and Dyck won. He won five times what he had lost at
the club. This made him companionable.

"It's a poor business-cards," he said at last. "It puts one up in the
clouds and down in the ditch all at the same time. I tell you this,
Boyne--I'm going to stop. No man ought to play cards who hasn't a
fortune; and my fortune, I'm sorry to say, is only my face!" He laughed
bitterly.

"And your sword--you've forgotten that, Calhoun. You've a lot of luck in
your sword."

"Well, I've made no money out of it so far," Dyck retorted cynically.

"Yet you've put men with reputations out of the running, men like
Mallow."

"Oh, that was a bit of l